The Villa (49 page)

Ginny smiled. ‘And I need to see you. So I was thinking. Can I come over – to Sicily, I mean? I’d love to see the place where Nonna grew up.’

‘Darling, of course you can!’ She sounded delighted. ‘Come over for as long as you like and we can travel back together. We need to talk properly. We need to make a plan.’

‘OK,’ said Ginny. ‘Sounds good.’ And it did.

The following afternoon, Tess got ready for the dive with mixed feelings. It was like falling off a horse, she told herself, you had to get straight back on … Which was why when Tonino had said: ‘When?’ she had said: ‘Tomorrow?’

She would have cancelled it to go back to Ginny, but now she didn’t have to. Tomorrow had become today and as she pulled on her wetsuit, all she could think of were those moments in the tunnel, trying to pull herself free. The sense of entrapment, the powerlessness … She tried to shake it from her head. She had to put it behind her now.

Down in the bay, Tonino was waiting for her, already wetsuited up. They had decided to go at siesta time. ‘The
baglio
will be at his most quiet,’ he had said, as if he too thought he was being watched, with someone recording his every move.

He too was banishing his ghost, Tess thought, as she gave him a quick wave and made her way over. They might, of course, be completely mistaken about the cave and
Il Tesoro
. The pot she had seen might contain nothing more than a few stones, shells and sand. The skeleton … She shivered at the memory of it … Could have been anyone.

But they had to find out. And if it proved a fruitless
exercise, what did it matter? They would both feel a whole lot better just for trying.

In his studio yesterday afternoon, when she had finally stopped shaking, when she had drunk his coffee and his brandy, and after they’d decided to do this dive together, today, she had at last – reluctantly – got up to go.

He didn’t hold her, he didn’t kiss her. But he put one hand on her shoulder and fixed her with that look. ‘Promise me, Tess,’ he said. ‘Promise me you will never do it again. Never dive alone.’

‘I promise,’ she had said. And it was a promise she intended to keep, advice she would pass on, if any of her plans ever came to fruition.

Only then had he let her go home.

‘You are sure you want to do this?’ he asked her, now, at the water’s edge.

She clasped his hand. Thought – not of the dive, but of her daughter, who had been travelling on her own journey, most of which Tess had been unaware of. She couldn’t say she was glad about the exams and Ginny’s decision not to go to university – what parent would be? It had been a shock to hear what Ginny had done and what she’d been going through – but she was glad that she would see her soon. And glad that Ginny had at last told her how she felt.

‘Yes,’ she said to Tonino. ‘Are you?’

He nodded. They checked their equipment and waded in side by side.

It was so much more rewarding, she thought, being with a diving buddy, sharing what you saw. Because although they were on a mission, heading back towards the cave, there was still lots to see on the way. Grey stripy salps, anthias and bream; an octopus with swirling tentacles and a funny little pulsating cuttlefish, like a brown-and-white slipper in a skirt, which made her smile, despite everything. And the sea was clearer today; the silt and sand had settled on the seabed after the storm; visibility was good.

The rock face was vibrant with sponges of white, yellow and orange, and the patches shaded by overhanging rock had attracted groups of silvery black-pronged cardinal fish and sea anemones. When they reached the gap in the rocks, the hole that had formed the new entrance to the cave, Tess hesitated. Could she really go in there again?

He hesitated too, as if aware of what she was feeling.

Go for it, girl
… She nodded and slipped through, kicked herself gently along the tunnel, even recognising the grey boulder that had trapped her yesterday.
Don’t think about it
. He was right behind her, a sleek, lean figure in his wetsuit, gliding effortlessly through the water.

They broke surface together, and pulled off their masks. He shone his torch around, swearing softly, clearly impressed with the size of the cavern. And it was beautiful, she supposed, the contrast between the dark rocks and turquoise water, the skinny beam of sunlight filtering through.
Grotta Azzurra
.

‘Where?’ he asked.

She shone her own torch in the general direction of the platform where she’d seen it. For a moment, she thought both pot and skeleton had disappeared. But no. There they were, clear as day.

He nodded, eased himself out of the water on to the slippery boulders, pulling off his fins. He scaled the rock wall barefoot up to the platform, with the beam from Tess’s torch lighting the way.

As she watched, he stepped gingerly over the bones. God … She was glad he wasn’t contemplating taking those back with them.

Then he stooped to pick something up from the floor. He examined it briefly and tucked it in the pocket of his wetsuit. He grabbed the earthenware pot – which was the size of a large pumpkin – with both hands and called down to her. ‘It is heavy.’

The words echoed around the cavern.
It is heavy … heavy… heavy
.

Tonino was carrying a waterproof bag attached to his weight belt. He unhooked the bag, placed the pot inside this and half-jumped, half-stepped down to the lower level, holding the weight of the bag in front of his body.

Tess winced. ‘Careful … ’ But he was agile and seemed to have perfect balance.

He put his fins back on, reattached the bag to his belt and slid back into the water. ‘
Andiamo
. Let us go,’ he said.

And Tess was happy enough to follow him.

* * *

They let the tide take them away from
il faraglione
and back to shore, paddling lightly with arms and feet, finally pulling off their fins so that they could walk out on to the beach.

They emerged by the stone jetty, dripping but triumphant. Tess pulled off her facemask. Tonino had already done the same and was grinning at her.

‘And now,’ he said, patting the bag at his waist, ‘we will see.’

She nodded, aware of a lurch of anticipation inside, following his gaze as he scanned the beach. But all was quiet.

‘Come.’

Tess too didn’t want to hang around. Without even unclipping her belt, she followed him, trudging past the old boathouse and rusty anchors, negotiating the steps to the
baglio
towards the safety of the studio. They had been discreet. But that feeling of someone watching – it never quite went away.

Tonino unlocked the studio door and pushed it open. Silence. He unclipped his belt, placing it with the bag carefully just inside the door, and began to unstrap his tank. Tess followed suit.

She didn’t know what made her look up; the faintest of sounds, the premonition that they were not, after all, alone. But as she glanced towards him, a shadow fell across Tonino who had bent down to put his scuba kit on the floor.

‘Toni!’ she shouted.

The man had come from the side of the studio and was standing in the open doorway. One arm was raised above
Tonino’s head. He was holding something …

‘
Diantanuni
? What the devil?’ Tonino blinked.

It happened so fast. Tess lunged forwards, pushing Tonino to one side. The weapon – a slab of driftwood, she realised – destined for Tonino’s head, fell instead on to his shoulder.

Tonino whipped around and was on his feet in seconds. ‘You.’

It was Giovanni.

For a moment Tess was frozen to the spot. It felt as if they were, all three, caught in a tableau echoing one from the past. She scrambled to her feet.

The two men faced one another. Tonino, in his wetsuit, his eyes dark and angry, the scar on his face as raised and livid as she had ever seen it. And Giovanni, his face twisted with hatred, his mouth curling back into a sneer.

‘What the fuck …?’ yelled Tonino, rubbing at his shoulder and letting loose a torrent of furious Sicilian.

Giovanni just laughed. He kicked the door shut behind him. Held out his hand. ‘Give me the bag.’

She’d been right. He had been watching, he’d seen them go out diving this afternoon, he knew all their movements, for God’s sake. He probably knew what was in the bag. He knew everything. And God knows who he was in league with.

Tess was the closest to the bag. She stood in front of it. No way.

But the two men were still eyeing each other like a couple of Sicilian wild dogs guarding their own territory. And so it was, she realised. Did Tonino know that Tess’s theory was
correct – that the treasure had originally belonged to his family? Giovanni certainly believed that it was Sciarra property; ancient protection money as demanded by the Mafia.

Giovanni threw the first punch, catching his opponent off guard. Tonino backed off, rubbed at his jaw, squared up to his opponent.

Oh my God, thought Tess. What could she do? What should she do? She didn’t want to be some helpless female on the sidelines of this battle. But …

They were flinging insults and fists at each other, much as they probably had in the playground. It was an old and bitter rivalry and somehow she had found herself in the centre of it. It was not her battle. But as Giovanni let loose a vicious punch to the face and as Tonino buckled, Tess realised her mistake. This was no playground fight. This was the culmination of what had been festering for years. It had started with their ancestors and simmered in the deep, dark cooking pot that was Sicily. And now – with these two men – it had reached breaking point.

Tonino … How could she help him?

But even as she looked blindly around, Tonino seemed to recover his balance. He swung a fist and – more by luck than judgement, she guessed – it landed on Giovanni’s nose.

‘
Ouf
.’ Another torrent of angry Sicilian.

Giovanni struck out again and again and suddenly they were both flailing wildly, each at the other, fists flying, punches connecting – with faces, eyes, throats.

‘Stop!’ she shouted. ‘Enough!’ But she might as well be invisible.

Tonino was the slighter of the two and hampered by his wetsuit, but he was also the faster and more agile, more adept at ducking and dodging punches. Thank God. And in some strange way as they fought on, Tonino’s wetsuit seemed to help him: it made him slippery and hard to catch.

Both men were breathing heavily now – though still able to fling insults at each other, she noted – and slowing down a little. There was nothing to choose between them. It was a fair fight, and something told Tess that she couldn’t, shouldn’t intervene. She had to stay out of it. This was something they had to finish for themselves.

Then something changed.

As they grappled together up close, Giovanni got Tonino in a headlock. He smashed a fist into his face.

Tess screamed. She lunged towards them once more, but Giovanni shoved her roughly away.

‘Stop! No!’ Surely someone outside must hear her? But no one came. Just like in the cafe that time. No one came.

Tonino elbowed Giovanni sharp in the ribs and he grunted with pain and loosened his grip. Like a seal, Tonino slipped from his grasp, but his face was now bloody and raw.

‘Tonino …’ Tess realised her own face was wet with tears.

His gaze flicked towards her and in that second, she saw Giovanni reach into his pocket. She screamed again.

Something glinted in Giovanni’s hand. The bastard had a
knife. He had flicked it open and was swishing and swirling it through the air.

Shit. Now the fight really was unfair. Tess had to do something. She grabbed her scuba tank which was still on the floor and heaved it up, swinging it at Giovanni – hard.

It caught him a glancing blow on the arm. He swore loudly and shoved her away, harder this time. The tank clattered to the floor and Tess fell back, hitting her head hard on Tonino’s wooden workbench.

For a moment, everything was a blur. Tonino was yelling at him now. But the distraction had enabled him to regroup. He was in a better position – and in his hand was his own diving knife, normally kept in a clip on his shin. Hardly a lethal weapon like Giovanni’s flick-knife, but at least he was no longer unarmed.

Both men’s faces were tight with tension. The air was still and heavy. Tess could hardly breathe. She edged further away on her backside and then stumbled to her feet.

Giovanni lashed out, catching Tonino on the back of his hand and then slitting the wetsuit at the shoulder. Tess saw a flash of crimson. He moved in for the kill, plunging the knife towards Tonino’s upper chest. ‘Now you are finished!’ he bellowed.

Tess screamed, Tonino ducked, and the next moment he was up, behind Giovanni now. He seemed about to strike, but Giovanni twisted around just in time to parry the blow.

Tess breathed again. But it wasn’t over yet. Again they circled one another.

‘Enough!’ she pleaded. ‘Stop it, both of you! Haven’t you done enough?’

But again they ignored her.

Tess shuddered. There was something about the look in their eyes. It was animal. She was terrified. It was as if they had agreed. A fight to the death was the only way to end it after all.

All of a sudden Tonino gained his first hit – a nick in Giovanni’s forearm. Tess saw the shock on the man’s face as he registered the sight of the blood. And she also saw the new determination. He lunged. Tonino twisted away. And then he had him. Tonino had a grip on the hand that held the flick-knife and he had his knife at Giovanni’s throat.

Tess blinked. No, Tonino, she thought.

‘Drop it,’ he said.

Giovanni had no choice. The knife clattered to the floor and Tonino kicked it away. Again, she held her breath.

Tonino was muttering into Giovanni’s ear now, still holding the knife to his throat.

‘
No, no …’
Giovanni was begging. His expression had changed. His voice had changed. He would never forgive Tonino for this, Tess realised. If he lived.

Tonino raised his arm, the knife drew closer.